Fern Bloomingdale's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Fern Bloomingdale knelt at the edge of the clearing and set the carved wooden platform on the moss. Ferns and green patches grew along its rim. She had built it as a promise. She wanted a hidden sanctuary, a place where no collector could reach the small lives she counted each night. A pink mushroom with a round, smiling cap peeked from behind a root. Fern lifted her translator device and pressed the orange key. The screen blinked numbers. She spoke softly into it. "Please. Follow me. I can keep you safe." The device buzzed and clicked. It spat out a flat tone, nothing like the rustling, sporing speech the mushroom folk used among themselves. The pink mushroom flinched. Other small shapes shifted in the brush and drew back. Fern tried again. She tapped every button. She held the screen toward the creatures and let it hum. They watched her, unmoving. Then, one by one, they turned and slipped beneath the drooping branches of a great willow, vanishing into its root-shelter. Fern lowered the device. The clearing was empty. Her platform sat alone in the moss, a gift no one had accepted. She pressed her palm flat against the carved wood and understood. Without their language, she would never lead them anywhere.